A writing guru whose mailing list I’m on is always advising us writers to sell the read, not the book. And that’s ultimately what we are all trying to do. Some of us just do so better than the rest of us.
As a reader, that is, of course, exactly what I want to know: where will I be going, what will I be experiencing, feeling, doing as the result of reading this book. The book I’m considering buying, or the one I bought and am considering reading.
I read fiction primarily for entertainment. If I learn something new along the way, or am given cause to stop and think for a moment — extra kudos go to the writer.
For me, reading is no different than watching TV, or a movie, or playing a video game. Except my imagination is doing the work, instead of someone else’s — and that’s what makes reading, IMO, the better form of entertainment. Even the best form. Reading is active. Videos, in all forms, are passive. And active is good. Stretching those imagination muscles is good. It’s why reading is my favorite form of entertainment.
The other day I was reading Lawrence Block’s introduction to one of the editions of Black Orchids, the ninth Nero Wolfe mystery, by Rex Stout.
Block’s observation as to why we reread the Nero Wolfe mysteries is enlightening, and I think a vital key as to why some of us really get into books. Block wrote:
I know several men and women who are forever rereading the Nero Wolfe canon. …
They do this not for the plots, which are serviceable, nor for the suspense, which is a good deal short of hair-trigger even on first reading. Nor, I shouldn’t think, are they hoping for fresh insight into the human condition. No, those of us who reread Rex Stout do so for the pure joy of spending a few hours in the most congenial household in American letters, and in the always engaging company of Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin.
… we know these two, and it is a joy to see them simply being themselves.
What Block wrote describes to a T why I thoroughly enjoy rereading the Nero Wolfe mysteries. Stout wrote in such a way that we are the fly on the wall observing the goings on in that delightful brownstone.
I’d go one step further than Mr Block: any book I read is for the characters. I don’t read for the plot. One reason, I suppose, why I enjoy plotless novels. I also don’t read for the suspense, which I prefer rather low key. And I’m old enough that I probably won’t learn anything new about the human condition.
I read for the characters — pure and simple. The experience of meeting new and interesting people.
If a writer can deliver the goods, characters I can fall in love with, then he has me hook, line, and sinker. I don’t care what else is in, or not in, the book.
Unfortunately, this does not occur all that often. Most writers seem obsessed with the plot. They are too busy counting plot points or beats, writing a detailed outline, following the Hero’s Quest, or whatever other nonsense is being pushed by the writing guru of the moment.
Most writers fail to heed Bradbury’s Dictum: create your characters, let them do their thing, and there’s your story.
Fiction is not about the plot — it’s about the characters. The characters are the ones who pull us into the settings, the time period, the world they inhabit.
I cannot recall one book where I walked away remembering the plot and not the characters. Not a single one.
At base, plots are simple. There are at most just a handful of stories. They are mundane at best. But characters, like people, are complex. Everyone has an outer life and an inner life. Good characters are no different.
Which is more interesting? Tarzan, or the plot of a Tarzan novel? Dirk Pitt, or the plot of a Dirk Pitt novel? Sherlock Holmes, or the plot of a Sherlock Holmes story?
Many of us would like to get into a spaceship and fly off to other worlds. I don’t remember a single plot in Eric Frank Russell’s Men, Martians, and Machines. But I do remember the chess playing octopoid Martians, and the android Jay Score.
Good characters pull us into their world. We become one with them and experience what they experience. This is because the writer can’t give us everything. He can only suggest, and once he does our imaginations take over and do the rest.
This is not the case with even a good movie or TV episode. That’s because we’re passive. Everything is fed to us. We can only react. We are limited to what’s on the screen — which is why special effects are becoming increasingly important.
However, my imagination can do what special effects will never be able to do. My imagination is mine and makes the story live for me. Special effects are general. They target everyone, and in the end that means they shoot for the lowest common denominator. My imagination produces special effects tailored for me.
The secret to a good book lies in the characters. They make any old plot shine. Because it’s the characters who make the plot come alive. Create the characters, let them do their thing — and there is the story.
As a reader, I appreciate the wonderful characters good writers create.
As a writer, I appreciate the readers who fall in love with my characters.
No greater compliment was paid to me then when this review appeared for Trio in Death-Sharp Minor:
Some fictional universes are just places you want to be, and I have been so moved by the world CW Hawes has created for private detective Justinia Wright and her brother, Harry. … I would drop by their house any time, if only for a glass of Madeira.
Tina and Harry’s home will never top that of Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin. However, I will be very satisfied if I’m granted second place.
Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!
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Thanks for an interesting article and discussion. I’m very much a planner, TOO much at times! And I like plots as a reader, but also characters and situations. Settings can almost be characters in their own right. Buildings, towns, cities, ships, spacecraft, you name it. One of Stephen King’s most memorable characters was the title character of his excellent novel ‘CHRISTINE’, a red 1957 Plymouth Fury!
Right you are, John. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts, and setting is one of those things that, the better it’s done, the less it’s noticed. Setting can be used to challenge a character, to highlight a skill or quality, to set the mood of a scene without overtly saying a single thing about it, and a host of lesser impacts too numerous to mention. You might think of it as a print artist’s equivalent of a movie’s “mood music,” always important yet never intrusive. It’s often overlooked, but when it’s used well, you just know that that scene couldn’t have taken place anywhere else.
I remember “Christine”! Don’t remember anything about the story, but I sure remember her! Thanks for stopping by!
Good morning, Mr. Hawes, and I hope it finds you well. You point out a number of concepts I’m in full agreement with here, especially the importance of characters above plot, and the superiority of books over other media. That’s one reason I’ve never bothered with audio-books. People put them on to listen to, then do other things that cause them to become background noise; they often don’t know what they listened to when it’s over. I disagree with the notion of lumping video games into that “other media” category, however. When you’re playing a modern video game, you are making the decisions; where to go, what line of play (i.e., strategy) to follow, what clues to utilize, what hallways to explore, and if you let your attention wander for a second, your head winds up on a pike in front of some warlord’s castle. That is anything but passive.
But the sentence I must take the most umbrage with is this: “They are too busy counting plot points or beats, WRITING A DETAILED OUTLINE, following the Hero’s Quest, or whatever other NONSENSE is being pushed by the writing guru of the moment.” You have complimented my own work several times in these pages, and I deeply appreciate it, but it’s long-since passed the point of tiresome to be insulted several times a week for planning what my stories are expected to accomplish.
I started out as a pantser. I started and gave up on maybe fifty books, maybe more between 1967 when I first set out to write one, and 1997, when I finally finished one, a 140,000-word wild goose chase down every dog run and rabbit hole that suggested itself to me. It might have been good at half that total, but I had no idea where anything was going, it was just a quest to lay down as many words and situations as possible. I couldn’t write until I learned how to outline, and I’m a wee bit tired of the constant suggestions that plotters are somehow inferior or lack imagination because we use an outline. Where the hell do you think I got that outline, Wal-Mart? I could be insulting, too, and I have with statements like, “If you think you’re going to sit down at the keyboard and knock JKR off the top of the heap with no more thought than the name of your main character, more power to you; there’s one more writer I won’t have to compete with!” We write like we write, and just because I do it different than you doesn’t make my way “nonsense.”
Okay, rant over. Congratulations on that stellar review. Those are the ones that make it all worthwhile. Here’s to many more just like it in the days ahead!
There is no offense where none is taken, and I take none, good sir.
I take umbrage at those who bash pantsers as somehow being sloppy and inferior writers who have to go through multiple drafts to get anything decent to publish. And there are plenty of those folks out there. And I hear and read that scheisse every day. I’ve quit buying the books of James Scott Bell because that attitude underlies everything he writes. Plotters are superior writers. B.S.
However, I can see that what I was truly driving for missed getting communicated. It is this: too many writers simply follow the advice of some “famous” writing guru. They pay big money to someone who does not make a living writing fiction to teach them how to write fiction. There is a great big non sequitur there.
So I take your rebuke in stride and will seek to be more careful from now on in how I phrase things. Because you are right: what works for each of us works — and that is all that matters.
Peace?
Peace!
I didn’t exactly miss your point, but as you may have surmised, you found my overriding hot-button as a writer. And note that I only bash pantsers when they make stupid statements along the line of planners having no imagination. Which happens quite a bit, and I suspect the majority of them are people who’ve woke up one morning and decided to write a book. They have no idea how much work it is, and when they begin to discover that fact, they don’t want to do the work, and attempt to seek justification for their own “method” by bashing those who are doing the work, in a notebook, or on the fly. The analogy would be people who want to be kung fu experts, but think they can get there by watching Bruce Lee movies.
We all outline, brother; some of us call our outlines “first drafts.” But not to worry. If you don’t get someone spun up once in a while, you aren’t doing your job as a blogger, and if you can spin me up, that’s quite an accomplishment. Here’s to success for us both!